of ordering him to begin, to the intense relief of, I believe, every officer present, addressed the prisoners, telling them of his distress at finding two soldiers belonging to his troop brought up for corporal punishment twice in a little more than six weeks, and adding that, however little they deserved such leniency, if they would promise not to commit the same offence again, and to behave better for the future, he would remit the flogging part of the sentence.  If the prisoners were not happy, I was; but the clemency was evidently appreciated by them, for they promised, and kept their words.  I did not lose sight of these two men for some years, and was always gratified to learn that their conduct was uniformly satisfactory, and that they had become good, steady soldiers.

The Commissioner, or chief civil authority, when I arrived at Peshawar, was Colonel Mackeson, a well-known frontier officer who had greatly distinguished himself during the first Afghan war by his work among the Afridis and other border tribes, by whom he was liked and respected as much as he was feared.  During Shah Shuja’s brief reign at Kabul, Mackeson was continually employed on political duty in the Khyber Pass and at Peshawar.  On the breaking out of the insurrection at Kabul, he was indefatigable in forwarding supplies and money to Sir Robert Sale at Jalalabad, hastening up the reinforcements, and maintaining British influence in the Khyber, a task of no small magnitude when we remember that a religious war had been proclaimed, and all true believers had been called upon to exterminate the Feringhis.  While at Peshawar, as Commissioner, his duties were arduous and his responsibilities heavy—­the more so as at that time the Afghan inhabitants of the city were in a dangerous and excited state.

On the 10th September, 1853, we were horrified to learn that Mackeson had been murdered by a religious fanatic.  He was sitting in the verandah of his house listening to appeals from the decisions of his subordinates, when, towards evening, a man—­who had been remarked by many during the day earnestly engaged in his devotions, his prayer-carpet being spread within sight of the house—­came up and, making a low salaam to Mackeson, presented him with a paper.  The Commissioner, supposing it to be a petition, stretched out his hand to take it, when the man instantly plunged a dagger into his breast.  The noise consequent on the struggle attracted the attention of some of the domestic servants and one of the Native officials.  The latter threw himself between Mackeson and the fanatic, and was himself slightly wounded in his efforts to rescue his Chief.